


Watching the moon at dawn

by mathelode (engmaresh)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/mathelode
Summary: Izumi wonders and wishes.





	Watching the moon at dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveradept](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/gifts).



> Watching the moon  
> at dawn  
> solitary, mid-sky,  
> I knew myself completely,  
> no part left out.  
> ~Izumi Shikibu

“Oh good, it’s a clear night,” her father said, as he stepped out into the courtyard.

Her mother looked up, following his gaze, and hmmd.

Izumi trailed after them both, rubbing her eyes. The cold, dew-dropped grass against her bare feet helped to clear her mind slightly, but did little to shake the tiredness from her bones. After a day of celebrations, greeting the crowds that had shown up at the parade, distributing presents at orphanages, and then a pleasant if hurried dinner with Tametaka, she was ready for sleep.

Every now and then, she resented her father a little for leaving matters of appearances and royal publicity entirely to her. Not that she wasn’t grateful for the responsibility, but it was exhausting, being the face of the royal family. But her father had been so relieved when she’d accepted, and she knew how hard and stressful he sometimes found social situations. With her mother preferring to stay out of the limelight, the duty had fallen to Izumi.

She followed them out into the private gazebo by the edge of the pond. The moon was full, and Izumi could feel the fires of her qi bank low under its cool, silvery light.

Zuko grimaced as he lowered himself to his knees on a thin pillow, joints creaking as he went. Izumi took her place next to him, and opened up the portable writing set she’d brought with her, passing brushes around and opening the inkwell. Mai distributed the strips of paper, each edge ruler straight, even though Izumi knew she’d cut them with her throwing knives. She took one, sliding the silken, pliable strip between her hands as she contemplated her wish.

Next to her, her father had already started writing, holding one sleeve out of the way of the ink as he put brushstroke after brushstroke down. She caught a glimpse of the words “child” and “sun”, then turned her face away.

Next to her, her mother was staring contemplatively at nothing, tapping her chin with the end of her brush.

“Really?” said Zuko, looking around after he’d added a final flourish to his wish. “Am I always the first one to finish?”

“Unlike you,” said her mother slowly, turning her narrowed gaze on him, “we don’t spend a week ahead, thinking of our wishes.”

“It saves time now,” he argued, gesturing at his completed work.

Mai huffed softly and rolled her eyes, but without a word pulled a ball of silken cord from her sleeve and cut her husband a strand. He took it, but not without pressing a kiss to her hand. Mai retorted with threat, fond in a way only her threats could be.

Izumi tuned them out, left them to their gentle bickering. Over the years it had become part of the tradition. Her father would finish up first, then fidget restlessly until they’d written theirs. Izumi had learned to ignore him, but mother was always more than happy to humour him if it meant getting to throw her sharp sharp words at him, they way she threw her daggers. That was love for them.

She could wish for that with Tametaka, the kind of love that burned a steady flame, never too hot, but never cold either.

Or she could wish for health for her parents, for her aunts and uncles. Fortune for her friends, now scattered around the world.

Wisdom for herself. She was not that old yet, nor was her father ready to step down—she prayed it would be a while before he was—but it all still felt so far from her. She’d looked into the many faces of her people today, some young, some old, and many around her age. Raising their faces to her in guidance and support. The kind of love she did not yet know how to properly receive or reciprocate.

She dragged her brush through the ink and put it to paper.

The time came for them to tie their wishes to the bamboo. It grew haphazardly next to the gazebo like a bad haircut, and Izumi tied hers to the tallest branch she could reach, watching the paper twirl in the soft breeze. With only three strips, the bamboo looked painfully bare compared to the colourful trees she’d seen along the parade earlier that day. It didn’t matter. The branches would be cut down the next morning, gathered along with wishes from the rest of the palace, from officials, staff and guards alike. They’d all be brought down to the sea, planted into little rafts before being set alight and set sail.

She noticed her father looking up, matching her gaze as they both looked up at her winding wish.

“Izumi…”

“It’s all right, father.” She turned away. She didn’t wish for him to worry for her. There were enough things that concerned him even now, and she didn’t want him to think he had somehow failed her in her education and preparation.

“Izumi,” he said again, and tucked away a strand of hair that fallen in front of her face. “Never doubt that you make me proud.”

She let him pull her close, tucking her arms to her chest as she rested against him, the warmth of his qi reaching out to her even on a night such as this. His heart beat strong under her ear. A hand stroked down her back, lips moved against the top of her head. Izumi didn’t need to hear them to know what her father was saying.

“Are you two coming?”

“Yes, Mai,” Zuko grumbled, “yes, we’re coming.”

They broke apart, and her father gave her one final awkward pat on her shoulder. Izumi ran ahead to catch up with her mother. Mai was leaning against a pillar, a small smile playing about her lips, and offered an elbow to Izumi as she neared.

“What did you wish for?” asked her mother as they linked arms and began their slow walk back to the royal quarters.

“Wisdom. I think.”

Her mother snorted. “Didn’t know you needed that to be Fire Lord. Look at that one.” She gave a casual nod back at Zuko, who was slowly catching up. Izumi chuckled. Her father didn’t appear to have heard or he would have protested.

“What about you, mother? What did you wish for?”

Mai pressed a kiss to her temple, and smiled one of her sharp little smiles. “For your father to stop snoring in bed.”

That Zuko did hear. “Hey!”


End file.
